Unholy

4

Pain is all I can feel. My whole body aches and sears with hot pain all over. Behind my eyes, in my throat, in my stomach, in my thighs, and all the way down to my feet. You get the gist. This bitch hurts. I don't ever want to open my eyes. The pain mixed with the warmth and comfort of the bed and the nice smell makes opening my eyes the toughest feat of my entire life. I hear snoring to my right and am slightly alarmed. The last thing I remember is being in the truck with Reggie. Did he and I...? I can't feel my pants but I also don't feel any bit uncomfortable or sore in that area. Maybe nothing happened. I try to force myself back to sleep but my body isn't having it. My stomach lurches and acid burns the back of my throat. I stumble out of bed with my eyes closed, thinking that this is still home and I have the layout of the house memorized. Directly in front of me should be my bathroom.

"Where are you going?" A groggy voice startles me and I finally open my eyes only to see I am heading straight for a wall. This looks nothing like my house or Thornhill and that voice doesn't sound like Reggie's. Where the hell am I?

"Bathroom." I choke out. I don't turn around, afraid that any sudden movement could cause the contents in my stomach to spill out on the floor. My throat burns like it's been set on fire.

"Shit, come on." He leads me out of the bedroom quickly and into a small bathroom. I step over the pile of dirty close and frown at all of the men's products lying around haphazardly. Small hairs are in the sink and shaving stuff just lies around. I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and gag. My hair falls grossly around my face and I struggle to hold it back and hold onto my heaving stomach. "Here." The boy takes my hair in his hands and holds it back carefully. I puke into the toilet and flush, only to puke again and collapse on the cold, hard, tile. My body feels weak and it hurts to hold myself up. My eyes move up to see a face I wouldn't expect. That strange boy from the lunchroom with the tattoo on his neck. A serpent, I recall. I curl in on myself in fear.

"Please don't hurt me." I whimper and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow. The wet washcloth in his hand drips onto the floor. He tosses it at me with ease.

"Why would I hurt you?"

"It's what you serpents do. You hurt people for fun." I accuse.

"What the fuck? I let you in my house and better yet I let you sleep in my bed and you repay me by accusing me of being sadistic?" He snaps and I cower. I can't help it. He is far taller than me and stronger by the looks of it. His voice demands attention and his attitude demands respect, both of which I should pay him and neither of which I do.

"I'm sorry. I was just told..."

"By those filthy bulldogs, no doubt. Who do you think saved you last night?"

"Saved me?" I ask. Confusion leaks into my head. Saved me from what? Was I in danger? 

"Yes, saved you. Or do you not remember being shot at while your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend ran off like the pussy he is. Do you remember crying on my shoulder or me fixing your clothes or driving you home or putting you to bed?" He asks and I shake my head no shamefully. Reggie isn't my boyfriend, but he doesn't seem like he would make much of one if what this guy is saying is true.

"Yeah, well, serpents to the rescue, not that you would know." He spits, anger in his eyes and voice to match the tense stance he has taken leaning on the counter with his palms supporting him. 

"Thank you." I choke out, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry." I cry. He stops his ranting to look at me and his eyes soften.

"It was nothing, don't worry about it. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He sighs and holds a hand out to help me up. "I'll get you ready and on your way and we can go back to hating each other because of status tomorrow." He promises. Does he want me to hate him?